


daylight took your army

by trite



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Post-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trite/pseuds/trite
Summary: It doesn't take Poe long to find him.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	daylight took your army

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as [daylight took your body](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501479) (Finn/Rey sex pollen) and after [daylight took your eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501512) (Zorii gen), but you don't have to read them to understand this one.

After he drops Finn in Tatooine, he sets a course for Ginveria. He takes a deep breath when the planet’s dry, arid atmosphere greets him as he drops out of hyperspace.

It doesn’t take Poe long to find him. He visits two rundown cantinas (places he can’t imagine General Hux stepping foot in, but his convalescent alter ego might) and asks about a tall guy with a prissy Imperial accent, a rigid military posture, and red hair, who is probably an asshole. He gets directed to a cheap motel across the street from the second cantina. All in all, he finds him in less than ten minutes.

“You have poor manners. You’re not gonna invite me in?” Poe says, leaning against the threshold.

Hux is not very good at laying low, he’s even kept the black-on-black aesthetic Poe associates with the First Order. That said, he looks genuinely terrible. His hair is out is its usual shellacked style, his skin is sallow, there are large dark bags under his eyes and he’s _hunching over_ , looking worn down.

His grip on the thin, black cane he’s carrying tightens, but his voice comes out even when he says, “how did you find me?”

Poe shrugs. “A friend told me where you were.”

“A friend?” he says slowly. He looks past Poe’s shoulder, out onto the street but returns his gaze to him once he confirms Poe is alone.

“Yes. Let’s see, a friend is someone with whom you share—”

Hux scowls. “That’s enough. Be quiet.” He moves into the room but doesn’t bother to lock the door, so Poe follows him in, letting the door slide shut behind him.

“See? That’s the difference between us. I’m a friendly guy and have friends everywhere. You, on the other hand, only have me for a friend.” Poe looks around the room that Hux has been using as a makeshift medcenter. Its beige walls, its cramped space. There are bloodied bandages on a smooth, rectangular table by the corner with a medpac on top, probably taken from the escape pod he took. There’s a small, neatly made bed by the opposite side and a locked door next to it. A clear downgrade from what Hux must be used to.

“What are you doing here, then—” He pauses and adds, obviously pained, “—friend?”

Poe sits down on the chair by the bed and leans his elbows on his knees. “Just wanna catch up. Discuss your hopes and dreams, plans, and ambitions. That kind of thing.”

Hux changes the grip on his cane and swallows visibly. “My plans include recovering from a blaster shot to the chest and another blaster shot to the leg,” he says accusingly.

Poe is not entirely to blame for that. He might even be less responsible for it than he feels he is. “We could help with that. You know, back home.” It’s a genuine offer, made in good faith and he hopes Hux agrees. He doesn’t want to thank Hux for saving their lives by hunting him down across the galaxy.

“Where exactly is home? A Rebel base?” He scoffs and it draws a pained sound from his chest that he quickly tries to suppress. It leaves him winded and he awkwardly lowers himself down onto the bed, glaring at Poe as if daring him to comment.

“A Rebel base where you could get medical attention and recover in peace,” Poe says, pointing at his surroundings for good measure.

Hux is obviously a determined guy and he wants to live, but he doesn’t have to torture himself in the process.

“I see. Medical attention in exchange for my freedom.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Where should I place the emphasis there? ‘Not’ or ‘necessarily’?” His words come out firm and clipped, as if he were still giving out orders from the bridge of a star destroyer.

Poe shrugs and says honestly, “necessarily.” He won’t play judge and jury, absolving him of all his crimes or condemning him for them.

“It’s been as usual a pleasure, Dameron. Let’s not do this again,” he says standing up, moving toward the door.

“Hux, I’m serious.”

Hux rests his back against the door, his breath coming out labored from the few steps he took to get there. “What exactly is it that you think I’ll do?”

“Oh, come on. Self-imposed exile? I’m supposed to believe you’re embracing that? I don’t see you settling for it.” Poe stays in the chair, not wanting him to feel crowded or caged, feeling something close to pity for him.

“What do you see me settling for?”

“Galaxy-wide domination?” Poe jokes.

Hux swallows, looks away. The grip on his cane turning white-knuckled. “I don’t think that’s in the cards anymore.”

“Really? That’s out of reach for a smart, industrious guy like you?”

“It doesn’t count as flattery if it’s just fact,” Hux says, regaining some of his confidence (or his obnoxiousness. Maybe both.) It makes Poe feel less wrongfooted, less like he’s dealing with a complete stranger.

“Well, I came all the way out here. How about you let me get you a drink?” he says, motioning with his head to the cantina across the street.

Hux looks as out of place in the cheap cantina as Poe predicted. He canvases his surroundings with a displeased expression and grimaces down at the chair Poe pulls out for him. It’s obviously not what he ever wanted for his life and the good news is that he can choose something different.

Hux touches the surface of the steel table and when his hands come out sticky, he sighs and lets his shoulders drop. It’s a little depressing but it gives Poe hope that he can convince him.

“You know, I told myself that if I couldn’t convince you, I would leave and wouldn’t look back,” Poe says, twisting the truth a little.

Hux stares at him from across the round table for a long moment, before saying, “am I expected to believe you’re serious?”

“Yeah, because I am.”

“Oh, but only because you believe you will manage to convince me. I see being revered as a war hero by the entire galaxy has inflated your already massive ego.”

“Sure,” he says, shrugging. If anything it has had the opposite effect. He doesn’t bother telling Hux that, or anyone else for that matter. He would rather rush to prove them right than dwell on how he’ll inevitably prove them wrong. “I’m also hoping you’ll come with me because you’ll realize you don’t have to live like this. Or like any of the other ways you’ve lived before. We’re building something better out there and I don’t want to worry about you trying to destroy it.”

“Someone inevitably will.”

“And that someone doesn’t have to be you. I don’t want it to be you.” Poe has either succeeded or failed, but he doesn’t have anything better for Hux. He looks out the window. The sun streams from the transparisteel in powerful bouts of light but it doesn’t reach their table, doesn’t reflect directly on them. The place still feels unpleasantly warm.

“What would your enormous sense of compassion get me, then?”

“A second chance, if you want it.”

“A second chance to live under your government’s watchful eye.”

“Better than a second chance to die in obscurity in the middle of nowhere.” _It’s just a little bit of tough love_ , Poe tells himself, watching Hux flinch.

“I’ll go with you if you answer something honestly.” At Poe’s nod, he adds, “why did you come here?”

Poe thinks about it. It was the logical and responsible thing to do. “I told you, because it makes me uneasy to have you roaming the galaxy completely unsupervised.” Why did Poe _personally_ have to come, though? “Because I owe you for saving our lives. Because I feel guilty that we left you there.” Poe pauses but he promised honesty, after all. “Because you’re a genuinely horrible person, but I kinda like you.”

Hux frowns and squints at the sun coming into the otherwise dimly-lit cantina. The heat must be getting to him as well because his face has gone a little pink. “Alright.”

Poe exhales, feeling like he accomplished more than he ever expected. “I promised you a drink. Have one before we leave,” he says, pushing the flagon to Hux’s side of the table.

Hux reaches out and his hand meets Poe’s halfway.


End file.
